


Vasilla the Blessed

by Azpidistra



Category: Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azpidistra/pseuds/Azpidistra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I understand a mother's blessing.  I also understand a family's curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vasilla the Blessed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastwingedthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastwingedthing/gifts).



I understand a Mother's blessing. I also understand a Family's curse.

My younger sister did not fare well, but then I always told her. "Sister," I'd say, "it's best you do not catch children by sweets alone. You must earn their trust first." I mourned my sister when she died, perhaps the only one in this world to, but I was not surprised to learn she had been murdered so cruelly by two of the very children she sought to eat. Me? You ask. I have not eaten children for a very long time. A number of reasons, I suppose. But only one is important.

Her name, you ask. Well, yes. It was Vasilla.

I only learned later that her name meant Queen, and a Queen she was. In the way she carried herself. In the way she was so determined to help her family despite the cruelness they showed her. I knew the tasks I set for her. I made them impossible on purpose.

Cook my meals. (I am very particular.)

Clean my house and yard. (It's littered everywhere with the leaves.)

Separate the grains from the measures of wheat. (I admit this was the worst.)

Still I gave her these tasks three days in a row. And both days she succeeded.

On the second night, I invited her to share my meal. 

My mother's blessing, she answered when I asked how she had done it.

She had cooked the wild peas grown in the yard; the long grained rice and potatoes buried deep. Some tomatoes she had found who knows where, and a rich cream I dared she must have conjured from air. 

I invited her to stay. I'll teach you everything I know, I told her. How to build a mortar from the otherwise dead trees. How to garden, to recognize the herbs, flowers, and plants. To learn not just this earth, but everything surrounding it: air, water, and magic.

She declined. She was the first girl I had made the offer to. But I understood why she did.

I gave her all I could, given her decision. I gave her the light she had asked me for in the beginning, and I told her her how to use it, and I sent her on her way.

Perhaps I should had felt worse for sending her home. Perhaps I should have forced her to stay. 

I thought to my sister, with the way she had once gloated how her yard was littered with children's bones. Mine was littered with grains, and herbs, and chicken feed.

I watched this little girl, this Vasilla, this _Queen_ until she had disappeared down the lane.

She'd survive, I had a hunch. She'd survive whatever life threw at her.

Her mother's blessing, she had said.

It would be enough.

For her sake, I would continue to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Vasilla the Beautiful is a favorite of mine. You said you liked the Russian tales, so hopefully, you like this one. What I don't like, however, is Vasilla is not allowed to be anything but beuatiful. So, here, I tried to make her clever as well, if not at least self-aware. In addition, to mother-blessed.


End file.
